


Everything Changes

by IncongruentDesignations



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, Torchwood
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, Rose as a Time Lady, Story of Immortals, Things get really intense, a fix it because Owen's and Tosh's death's still hurt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-08 11:21:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14693154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IncongruentDesignations/pseuds/IncongruentDesignations
Summary: He shouldn’t be alive. Or - functioning. He shouldn’t even be just sitting there, in one dead piece. He looks up, and on one of the larger blocks of bricks, sits a girl. It’s the same girl as before, a young woman with bleach blonde hair, a dusty jacket, and she’s swinging her legs off the ground as if she were a small child, her smile seeming too large for her face.“Who are you?” Owen asks, doing his best to both breathe, AND figure out why he suddenly once more needs to.“I’m Rose.” The girl says, in a sing song voice. “The Bad Wolf. Well, not right now obviously, but occasionally.” She twirls a piece of blonde hair between her fingers, seemingly utterly amused with the situation.“What the bloody hell are you going on about?” He snaps. “This can’t be happening. I shouldn’t exist, let alone be here. I was meant to be dead- meant to be more than dead. Incinerated. What have you done to me!?”(The universe just won't let Owen Harper die, or, as it turns out, one Rose Tyler)





	1. Chapter 1

It starts and ends with Bad Wolf.

He's on his last leg, finally ready to complete a job that rightfully should have been finished when that bloody bullet hit- in fact a solution that one Doctor Owen Harper had been slowly, passively inching towards for years - and in one instant, everything changes.

The room is dark, he can’t hear his own breathing, but he can hear Tosh’s - wet and desperate over the com, filling up the space, and he knows it’s all over. He’s done with screaming, and if he did one thing right with his death, it will be that he was strong in his last moments. Tosh deserves that at least, for all that they never had. He closes his eyes, and then in a singular instant, his world goes blinding bright, painfully bright with sheer light.

What the hell? He’s been through death, and this isn’t it. Confusion, and then panic start to fill him, and Owen opens his eyes, and sees her.

For an instant, he thinks he’s hallucinating. Blonde hair curling down her shoulders, pale skin, big lips curled into something that looks like amusement. But then he sees the sheer gold light shining from her eyes, burning like a fire from within her, and it pulses outwards, blinding him, filling the air.

“Who the hell are you.” Owen whispers. The girl, and he’s not really sure it is a girl, because there’s something in those golden eyes that speak of something older than they should be. The girl brings a single finger up to her lips in a fluid motion, silencing him. His mouth hangs open, unsure of what he was going to say.

Get out? How had she even made it in here?

And then the girl’s hand curls around his neck, and pulls him in close, and she is kissing him. She’s kissing him like a passionate lover, and it’s all Owen can do to passively kiss back for a moment. Suddenly, he is on fire. Bad Wolf’s lips are wet - his are chapped, but that doesn’t stop him from screaming into her mouth as she kisses him. Every one of his neurons are burning, life is being forced back into them, and he can hear sound, but it isn’t quite music. It’s an approximation, but much more, Owen can’t think -and he wreches himself backwards, out of the Wolf’s grip. She is staring at him, knowingly. Something is wrong. Something is finally right.

“What the bloody hell did you do to me!” Owen shouts. The Wolf, and it’ll be endlessly frustrating to him later that he doesn’t know how he knows, places a single finger on her lips, once more. He feels as if his chest has been carved out, and replaced with something of hers. She’s done something to him. He doesn’t know what it is, and that terrifies him.

She steps back, and disappears, as if vanishing into golden mist.

Then things really go to shit.

The reactor explodes, and Owen is set on fire once more. It’s hotter than anything he’s ever experienced, and logically, as a doctor, he knows how it should feel. Burning alive as well as having every cell in his body irradiated, flesh melting off his bone, leaving nothing, not even a skeleton, just ash. His neurons once more burn, even more excruciatingly, and Owen screams.

He screams and screams and screams.

...

The only consolation, if such a thing could exist, is that it is over very quickly.

…

Then, Owen Harper wakes up.

It’s a gradual thing, because he expects nothingness, and the first thing he feels is warm, like he’s laying in a comfortable bed, and this entire year has been nothing but a terrible dream.

And then, like an oncoming freight train of absolute shit, it all rushes back towards him, and he remembers. Tosh. Jack. The end of the world. More than that, he realizes he can _smell ash_ , and _taste blood_ , and all of this shouldn’t be possible, so he opens his eyes. The girl-the wolf has done something to him. He can feel an energy he can’t begin to describe deep within his bones. He looks up, and he can see the sky, so dark and foggy. Owen’s mind is racing fast and the edges of his vision are starting to blacken, and...

“Breathe, will you?” A soft female voice, london accented, interrupts. Owen forces air back into his disused lungs. The black fades. He just now notices the rubble strewn everywhere around him, remnants of the building he’d been in, he realizes. He shouldn’t be alive. Or - functioning. He shouldn’t even be just sitting there, in one dead piece. He looks up, and on one of the larger blocks of bricks, sits a girl. It’s the same girl as before, a young woman with bleach blonde hair, a dusty jacket, and she’s swinging her legs off the ground as if she were a small child, her smile seeming too large for her face.

“Who are you?” Owen asks, doing his best to both breathe, AND figure out why he suddenly once more needs to.

“I’m Rose.” The girl says, in a sing song voice. “The Bad Wolf. Well, not right now obviously, but occasionally.” She twirls a piece of blonde hair between her fingers, seemingly utterly amused with the situation.

“What the bloody hell are you going on about?” He snaps. “This can’t be happening. I shouldn’t exist, let alone be here. I was meant to be dead- meant to be more than dead. Incinerated. What have you done to me!?”

“I haven’t done anything. That was the wolf. I’m just here because she’s gone for the moment.” The girl mutters, rather crossly. Owen doesn’t care. Whatever kind of day she’s having, he’s obviously having a worse one.

“Who is she?” Owen asks.

“The wolf. Bad Wolf. Wooooo.” She wiggles her fingers. The girl is nutty, Owen decides. It’d be easier to confirm if he wasn’t absolutely freaking out. He can feel something - brick beneath his fingertips, hard and rough. Owen swallows, and there’s a low thrumming in his ears- a heartbeat. Somehow, he’s alive again.

“Alright. Alright. This can’t be happening.” Owen pukes on the ground next to him, barely able to make the effort to lean over.

The girl wrinkles her nose in disgust. “Look, no matter how many times you ask - I don’t know why the Wolf does was she does. It’s like being in the backseat of a sports car, with an unpredictable driver, yeah? But I do know she saved you for something, just like she did Jack.”

“She did this to J-Jack?” Owen Sputters. “Jack Harkness? Our Jack? What about Tosh? Ro-Robin, or whatever the bloody hell your name is, there was a girl I was on the line with, her name’s Tosh, is she safe?”

The girl met his eyes. “I’m sorry. I don’t know. The wolf only saved you.”

Fuck.

This time Owen’s head is swimming for a completely new reason, not because he’s not breathing, but because he’s once again not entirely sure that he wants to be.

“No. No. You’ve got to - you’ve got to get whatever the hell that being was, and go save Tosh. Tosh, got it, sod me. The girl I was on the line with, her name is Toshiko Sato, she works for Torchwood three, she has an entire life to live. Her!” Owen tries to get to his feet, but his hand-eye coordination is still shit. He collapses back onto the loose bricks, and it hurts like hell.

The girl waits patiently as Owen starts screaming. He starts with anger, the begs. He tries to offer his life for Tosh’s, promises Torchwood, the planet, anything and everything he can think of, to no avail. His chest feels like there’s still a gaping hole in it, but not the kind that was caused by a bullet wound. The girl just looks sad as he goes through every type of insult he knows.

“-Bitch. You utter bitch, filthy-” Owen Harper finally pauses for breath, and realizes that he has gone through all his material, and still feels even worse than before. He has gone after the girl’s mother, friends, intelligence and really anything else he could think of, and oh, he is creative, but the anger is dissipating finally. Owen recognizes shock for what it is, as it settles in like rigor mortis.

“Who the bloody hell are you, Rose?” He asks once more, hoarsely, setting back down onto the rocks.

The girl sighs. “I’ve been telling you. I can explain again, if you like. But buy a girl chips first, will you?” She hops to her feet, meeting his gaze steadily. There’s something to be said for lack of better options.

“Deal.” Owen grunts.

\---

As it turns out, there’s a 24 hour chip shop about a block away.

They probably look crazy, entering a chip shop at 3:03 in the morning. Owen is covered in ash, and a bit of his own blood, and Rose looks like she stepped right out of the early 2000’s, and immediately raided several large gun shops. The single employee stares, but Owen slams down a big enough tip that the employee brings them chips while he does it.

“My name is Rose Tyler.” The girl begins, as they sit down. “I was whisked away by aliens when I was young, and I fell in love. I met a man with two hearts - and we had the world at our fingertips. We traveled so far and so fast, I thought it would never end, and he let himself believe it too.” Rose moaned, long and filthily. “I’d forgotten how good these tasted.” She popped another chip into her mouth.

Owen’s stomach also ached for food, but he couldn’t quite get himself to go out and take a chip. If he was wrong, and he was pretty sure he was alive, but if he was wrong, he’d never be rid of it. Just a chip, uncomfortably stuck down his throat, because involuntary body functions like peristalsis did not work while dead - stuck there forever. “That’s not much of an explanation at all.” Owen muttered. “You gonna get to the part where I’m somehow fucking breathing again, or are you going to prattle on about your love life all night?”

The girl looked affronted, and Owen had it in him to feel slightly guilty.

“Has anyone told you you’re a bit of git?” The girl asks.

“Many many people. More than just a bit of a git, actually.” Owen grins humorlessly. “Do go on.”

The girls talks some more. She begins with the doctor she was talking about before. An alien who was something called a time lord, and it’s about half way through her explanation that Owen realizes she’s talking about Jack’s doctor, the one he’s wanted to fix him.

“And that’s how we met Jack.” Rose continues. She talks about Jack and his schemes, and the sacrifice he’d ended up making. It all sounded so Jack-like, Owen believed her.

“He was a good bloke. When the wolf took over, all I could think about was saving ‘im, and my Doctor. So the Wolf did what I couldn’t, rather permanently. She’s not one for subtlety but she can do incredible things.”

“Like bringing a dead man back to life?” Owen interrupts. “And keeping him alive forever?”

“Yeah.” Rose looks vaguely uncomfortable, popping another chip into her mouth.

“Why me?” Owen asks. Why not Tosh? Rose shrugs. “Your important to Jack, s’all. That’s all the Wolf really told me. She doesn’t really use words, you know, only really rarely. Just images, and feelings.”

“Tosh is incredibly important to Jack.” Owen interrupts.

“I’m sorry.” Rose sighs.

“Bullshit.” Owen growls.

There’s a beat of silence, and Owen realizes, belatedly, that this is not how he’s going to bring Tosh back. “I’m sorry. It’s not your fault.” He mutters, half meaning it.

“Listen.” Rose says. “‘Cuz I haven’t gotten to the other important bits, and the sun is almost up.”

Owen does end up listening. She spins tales of aliens and distant forgotten worlds, other dimensions and lost loves and owen can’t help it, he is transfixed. The girl in front of him is hundreds of years old, bonded to what seems to be a godlike being, and trapezes through the universe with frightening ease. She can’t die. She was looking for her doctor, not unlike Jack was. She found him, she says, and he left her with a copy, a universe away. She loves her doctor. Her existence is wrong, and she can’t ever be with him.

Familiar pangs of loss reverberate through Owen’s chest at that, sympathy as he thinks of another woman he could never be with. She’s gone through four bags of chips without stopping, when she makes him an offer.

“Look, I don’t know you, Owen Harper. But you were saved for a reason, and I may be wrong, but I’m usually not with people. You have a heart, underneath all that anger, and I’ve travelled alone for a very long time. I’d like a companion, someone to show the universe.” Rose is smiling again.

“What about Tosh? Can you make the wolf save her?” Owen asks.

Rose nods, slowly. “The wolf chooses where we go, but if you can get close enough, we’ll eventually be able to be back here just before the accident. It could work, Doctor Harper.”

Owen finally takes a chip,and nearly gags as the salty flavor overwhelms his disused mouth. He spits it back out onto the plate. “Y-you have yourself a deal.”

The wolf girl cracks a smile.

...

Doctor Owen Harper wonders, only once, if he should go back. He could, he knows. He could go back to Jack and Gwen and Ianto, who probably need him in the aftermath. But he can’t. He can’t look Jack in the eyes, and explain to him Tosh died. How he didn’t. He can’t go back to the bunker and see an empty space where Tosh used to sit, and think it’s fine.

Doing this, saving her, is the only way.

Owen watches news clips as they remove more of the rubble from the remains of the building. After what has happened, he knows that neither Ianto, Gwen or Jack would think to check the CCTV footage, and it’ll be a couple days before they realize even a dead man should have some sort of wreckage of a body. Still, Owen keeps his a hoodie up, and tries not to be in the sight of any cameras.

They stay in the chip shop for a couple more hours.

Rose talks about trivial things but Owen can barely find it in himself to reply, so he lets Rose prattle on. He sits, and pretends to listen, and tries desperately not to think about Tosh. It doesn’t work. It’s a relief when then the Bad Wolf returns.

Rose closes her eyes, and the wolf opens them, golden eyes, glowing golden air, the faint vestiges of song, filling the air. Bad Wolf doesn’t speak exactly, but she stares, and Owen fights the urge to cower. She exudes a danger that he can't describe. She threads her fingers into Owen’s jacket, and all at once the doctor forgets everything else.

“Now” he whispers, and they go.

...

He knows when he opens his eyes once more, they’re not in Cardiff anymore. It's like waking up on a mate's couch after getting black out drunk and not knowing what day it is. The ground beneath him is suddenly unsteady for a single moment, and then rock hard once more. Gold is bleeding from his surroundings, revealing the color underneath, and he sees cobbled streets. There's sound too, and it hits him like a brick wall. Beside him, he can still feel Rose's fingers in his jacket, and they tighten.

Rose gasps her way into consciousness, and it’s all Owen can do to prevent her from collapsing onto the street.

“Sorry. Sorry.” She mumbles. “It’s always a little hard to take control again.”

“S’ Alright.” He says, helping her back upright. “Where are we?” He pauses. “When are we?”

“Rome...I think. Yeah. Ancient Rome - look at the vendors, and that flag.” Sure enough, they were standing in a side of a semicircle of buildings, shops pressed in between the rounded architecture. A few flags, by the looks of them, hand died, flapped around in warm air. The people around them were dressed in various types of togas - and the odd mix of what sounded like french, spanish and german could be heard, Owen could hear the vowels melding together oddly.

“This is insane.” He tells Rose. She smiles mischievously.

“Oh, this is nothing. You want to go explore?”

Owen feels like the wind has been knocked from his chest. “Bloody hell. Yes.”

Rose grabs his hand and pulls, lightly, towards a gap in between the vendors. Owen follows her into a shaded approximation of a dark alley, which leads to another sun lit shop, this one selling what appears to be roman clothes. “Luckily, I’ve been here before, and we’re not the only aliens to ever visit this place. In fact, far from it. I know someone who can help us blend in a little better.” Rose explains as they walk. “For now, we jus’ gotta try and keep our heads down.”

They walk towards the back of the shop, which only has one other customer, seemingly immersed in a pile of red cloth. In the back is an older looking roman, a balding man who eyes them with familiarity and a vague distrust, which lessens as Rose drops a few gold coins in his hand. “volumus emere a paucis minuscula togas in super secundo, Mauricius” She says. The Roman, nods, and goes into what appears to be a back of his shop, before returning with several blue piles of cloth.

“Here.” Rose tosses him his own pile.

“You want me to strip down? Here?” He asks incredulously.

“No, dummy, there’s a closet right over there.” Owen feels pink tinge his cheeks, and walks over to closed off ‘closet’ that consisted of a couple sheets hung up. He strips down quickly, electing that he’s going to keep his boxer-briefs, roman times or not, he still needs that last bit of dignity. It occurs to him that if he could drink - and he can, that’s an odd thought - he should be a lot drunker given the way this day is happening. Is it still day? How long has it been since the explosion? He does feel the sluggishness that he remembers came with sleep, and his stomach is certainly growling, but that’s a matter for a little bit later.

A few moments he comes out of the sad excuse of a closet, and rose honest to god wolf whistles. “Not bad, for a skinny boy.”

“Hey! I’m not skinny. I’m in great shape!”  Owen protests.

Rose rolls her eyes. “Alright. Let's go find something to eat, and then we can go to the coliseum. And don’t look at anything too long, like I said, there’s a higher population of aliens around here than you’d think.”

“Aliens? In ancient Rome?” Owen asks.

“And Aliens in Cardiff aren’t out of place?” She replies.

Owen couldn’t help it. He laughs at that. Rose giggles, bouncing on her feet..

“I don’t suppose we need to watch out for Weevil’s here, too?” He asks.

“Weevils?” Rose is leading them towards a row of more brightly covered stalls. “Like, the things with no hair, try to maul you, those type of Weevils?”

“Yeah.” Owen breathes.

Rose shakes her head. “I don’t think so. I mean, you can never guarantee, but I think we’re good. I don’t suppose you’ve ever seen a gladiator battle? Violent, really bloody, but something tells me, you like that kind of thing.”

Owen wonders what she sees in him, what she knows about him. She knows he’s torchwood, and she knows about Tosh, but other than that...probably not a lot. She’s not wrong. A gladiator fight sounds like something that’s right up his alley. Or it would have been, he thinks. Well, it can’t hurt to see all the sights, can it? And maybe there’ll be alcohol afterwards, and he can get good and properly drunk.

“Alright.” he acquiesced.

She takes up to the higher seats, from where they can’t see much, and Owen squints to make out the dusty pit. It’s midday, and the sun beats down on them, and he is glad that they aren’t wearing much. He can taste the tension in the air, and the crowd is already jeering and waving.

“It’s just starting.” Rose whispers. Owen nods. His limbs feel heavy.

A single heavy gong quiets the ground, and a single man standing over the pits shouts, a string of words, and suddenly the arena gates are opened, and 8 chariots coming from many different directions collide with a sickening crunch. There’s screaming from the crowd, and the riders of the chariots swing at each other, barely missing contact. The horses swing back around, and the chariots rush together once more. This time, there’s blood as a single rider is violently thrown forward, impaled on the long swords the riders carry.

He can smell the blood, and the barely contained chaos. Memories of another ring flit through his mind’s eye, this time not all the occupants human.

The gladiators clash once more, and he knows without fully seeing, that another one of them is dead. The crowd once again shouts in approval. Owen thinks he’s going to be sick.

“Lets go.” He tells Rose. She’s also got a strange expression on her face, but he doesn’t have time to process that now, he just needs to be away from where he is. He doesn’t stop to see if she’s following, he steps back down the steps, seemingly taking much more time to step down than they’d been to climb up.

He stumbles back into the open air market, back through the shops. He’s hyperventilating, and it occurs to him that he’s going back into shock. He forces himself to intake more air. Rose is calling to him again. He finds what he was looking for - a deserted corner, and that’s all it takes.

He curls up in the corner, wrapping his hands around his knees, burying his face in them as well.

“Hey. Owen? Just breathe, okay?” And there’s Rose, sitting down besides him, her arms wrapped around his shoulders. Jack had always been overly touchy feely, and while he had complained in the moment, he had always appreciated it in more ways than he could see. After months of not being able to feel anything, Owen unabashedly, unashamedly leans into her touch, taking all the warmth possible that he could. Tears stream down his face, and wow, he hadn’t been able to do that either, for months.

He hadn’t even been able to cry.

So he cries, into his knees, into Rose’s shoulder. She’s whispering softly, and he can’t protest, can’t do anything but cling to this strange woman whose given him back his life.

“It’s okay Owen.” She whispers. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have just taken you up there. You just got back, you need sleep, and food and rest and everythin’’” The former torchwood doctor nods.

Sleeping in the alleyway wasn’t the best play to sleep overall, but he couldn’t be bothered. He falls asleep on her shoulder, on the brick.

He wakes up in a soft bed, several worlds away.

“Thank you.” He croaks at Rose, who is still absentmindedly carding her fingers through his hair. He means it more than he ever has in his life he thinks, and he doesn’t know how he could possibly convey that.  
  



	2. Chapter 2

“I was king of the Weevils.” He mentions, several days later, still the same planet. It’s a non sequitur, over some bland bread - his stomach still wasn’t adjusting well to most foods. 

“You were what?” Rose is spearing some strange fruit, onto something that vaguely passes for a fork.

“Yeah. I was the Dead Weevil king, me, it’s why I couldn’t get another job after torchwood.” Rose laughs. 

“No kiddin’ I mean, I suppose I can’t talk. I couldn’t get another job - they all thought I was crazy.” she mentions, as if she was talking about what they were going to have for lunch that day.

“What? With those legs, you could get any job.” Owen snarks, and Rose hits him.

“After John died, I did try and stay on at torchwood. Thought i’d honor his memory, something like that. Truth was, I wasn’t sure where to go, not after all that.” 

Owen’s not sure what to say to that, so he doesn’t. 

“Tell me about this planet.” He prompts, instead.

As it turns out, the planet is named Ovarlue, and it’s on the edge of the human occupied systems a couple hundred years after the final destruction of the planet earth. That part takes him a moment - Kinda hard to get over the idea of the earth exploding.

“Yeah, that was my reaction, too. But humans survive, and we - they grow.” Rose tells him. “That’s the good part, yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

The planet they’re on has a single ruling class, Rose explains, and is mostly populated by settlers from the human empire, and a species called the loom - something. 

“Loom -xaesthuf” Rose enunciates. 

“Loom - zastuf” he tries.

“No. xae- thu- fffff” Rose tries again.

“Zastuffff.” The former doctor rolls out the f. Rose shakes her head. “You’re hopeless.” she decides, and Owen shrugs. 

They’re being hosted by the royal family, which according to Rose, has a tenuous grip on the ruling off the planet. Several separate factions were warring for control, the royal family were apathetic. There would be a revolution soon, but that wasn’t their problem.

“What? We’re the ones on this planet, that kind of makes it our problem!” Owen protested.

Rose shakes her head. “It’s a fixed point in time. We can’t do anything about that.” 

“People die in revolutions, Rose.” Suddenly he’s Doctor Harper again, sworn to do no harm. Across from him, Rose has pulled her gun out, and is cleaning it. She pops it apart in the way he’s seen Jack do, and the way he’s seen Gwen try to imitate. Something else clicks into place.

“You really were torchwood, weren’t you?” Owen mutters.

Rose snaps a few bullets into the barrel, then unloads them. “Yeah. I was.”

\---

Owen lets Rose do most of the talking. They were housed in nice room, about the size of Owen’s old apartment, which was saying something, with gray pillows and gray everything. Looking outside, there were fields of bright red trees, glinting in a bright sun accentuated by blue trunks and light blue rocks. There was a striking lack of green anything, and it was disconcerting at first. 

Rose doesn’t explain it, so he just follows her around, first out of their room, then through several long halls as she stops to speak to several blue skinned aliens. 

The aliens are odd to look at, but he considers, better looking than Weevil’s. Their skin ranges from dark midnight blue, to an almost purple hue, and they stare at him from four eyes. They’re also larger than both him and rose, ranging up to what Owen guesses is about 3 meters, and they maintain several sets of arms. They mingle among the humans who wear the same kind of clothing as they do, very minimalistic, barely covering their lower parts, sometimes carrying decorative ropes around their chests, and rope twining that stretches up their calves and sparkles slightly in the sun. Some have gold cuffs up around their biceps, which Rose explains, states their military ranks. 

“Shouldn’t we, uh, be dressed like that?” Owen asks, picking at his tunic. Rose shakes her head. “They know we’re outsiders already. We may as well keep our panties on.” Owen shrugs, not for the first time that day wishing he hadn’t lost his leather jacket. Rose takes them a bit further.

“This is Xausuf.” Rose introduces him to one of the taller aliens. “He’s our host.” Owen nods tensely, hoping it’s the right thing to do. One of the blue alien’s mouths crack into a smile, and he breathes in relief.

“Eouser, ha afeut?” Xausuf asks, inclining his head towards Owen in some kind of weird greeting. This one has several bands of gold around his left biceps.

“Uh, hi.” Owen tries, awkwardly imitating the head nod. 

“He’s asking your name -” Rose translates, giggling. “Aer faaolu Owen zefuasu” She says, her tongue clicking as she speaks. Xausuf makes a gesture with his right - top hand his bottom left, grasping them together and interlocking the pointers. “Erscu Xausuf, wera hioju Owen” 

The alien seems amused by Owen, at least, and the former doctor hoped that was a good sign.

Rose continues to speak with Xausuf, as Owen takes a look around. This place, too, is an approximation of an open air market. Aliens and humans alike hurried from stall to stall, placing colorful red and gold tinted fabrics into colorful bags. Behind them, the palace shows bright red against the gold sky. The color was really starting to give Owen a headache.

He hated broccoli, and really anything green on principle, but right now he thinks he would make an exception. A single stick of celery would have been heaven.

He looks back at rose, who is rubbing at her left leg absently, the same place he’d seen her strapping a gun to earlier. 

“Are you expecting to be attacked?” He asks, in what he hopes passes for a conversational tone.

Rose shrugs. “Best to be prepared. The Loom are a kind people, but in the right circumstances, that doesn’t mean nothin’” Owen nods. 

Xausuf speaks once more, “You are not wrong, Tyler-Rose-Wolf. The streets are not what they seem.” He speaks with hesitant tongue(s). 

He says something else in his own native language, speaking to Rose in unhurried sliding vowels, and she’s smiling back, her own cockney accent sounding just as alien to him as the two speak. Owen hasn’t known this guy for more than a couple minutes, to be fair, but a slow twinge of dislike nestles itself in his gut. The guy is long, and dark blue, and dare he say, handsome. Even with a few extra fingers and arms, the alien is still speaking with Rose playfully.

“The revolution is coming, terra-walkers.” Xausuf acknowledges. “We that is here must stay safe. Sometimes with guns. It would be best not to be here at all.” 

Rose sobers. “Yeah, mate. We aren’t gonna stay long, promise. Jus’ need a few days and we’ll go.”

Xausuf seems placated. “Stay in safety.” the alien makes another gesture, this time with all four hands, interlocking all 7 fingers into a spiraling formation. Owen finds he can’t look away. There’s no reason to dislike this bloke, he reasons. Just an alien. It’s not like he’s alien-phobic. He’s just…

Jack would tell him he was jealous. Fuck Jack, honestly. Jack would already be sleeping with this muscle bound, handsome slab of meat. With those eyes, too. There’s four of them, and yet they’re a bright blue color, standing out against the midnight blue of his skin, and are those golden freckles dotting his skin?

Owen is yanked from his unsuccessful musings on reasonable reasons to hate this guy by Rose, tugging him along the streets. 

“C’mon. I want to show you something, Weevil boy.”

“How do you know that bloke?” Owen grouses. “He’s an asshole, I can tell with these types. All those fingers don’t mean he’s not thinking what any other bloke is thinking - “

Rose snorts. “Oh believe me, he can put those extra fingers to good use, if that’s what you're worried about.”

Owen flushes, despite himself. Rose begins to trot away from him, her gold hair glistening in the warm air. 

“ROSE!” He shouts, but she’s already running far ahead.

\---  
His lungs are burning as he runs full speed through the crowded streets. Owen used to think of himself as generally in shape, but the way that girl runs is unbelievable.

“ROSE! ROSE!” Wait up! He calls, to no avail. Soon the streets are giving way to more forest, and the road underneath them trails off until they are running on dirt. Owen silently curses the fact that he’d traded his sneakers in for a fair of loose fitting clogs - they offer little to no protection against the ground and the cords are cutting into his feet.

The ground slopes upwards, and the trees seem bigger as they run out, until all Owen can see is the red of Rose’s jacket. He runs upwards, until he can’t see her anymore, and a feeling of bubbling panic fills him. He runs harder then, until his lungs are burning and he’s breaking past the final ridge, past the treeline, and stops abruptly, his feet skidding on the ground, falling over a cliff-

\- into the open air. 

The hill had led up into a cliff, thousands of meters down into barren rock nothingness, he can feel the wind at his back and the panic, but the only thing that registers is heart stopping fear. And then he feels a pair of strong arms around him, tugging him back onto safety.

“JESUS CHRIST!” His voice echoes back and forth across the huge expanse.

Rose’s arms are warm around his chest and she lets him fall backwards onto her, both of them out of the reach of death by sheer distance and gravity. “I’ve got you. Just -relax, will you.” Rose grunts, as Owen struggles. She runs a hand through his hair, once, twice, and he breathes outwards.

“There’s a giant bloody cliff.” He states, gasping for air.

“Yeah. Sorry, should have said something.” Rose sounds a little sheepish.

“Bloody hell. I don’t care if we’d come back to life, dying bloody hurts.” Owen sits up from where he’d collapsed onto the ground. 

“Yeah.” Rose rubs at her nose. “It doesn’t really get easier, but that’s the job.” 

“The job?” Owen asks. “What the hell kind of job is it that you do exactly, Rose? So far all we’ve done is talk to a blue alien. And then you nearly killed me!” 

“Oh, shut up.” Rose mutters. “Shut up, and look” Rose points outwards, towards the edge. Owen looks. 

The first thing that hits him is the enormity of the space. Outwards from the edge of the tree line is a huge canyon, with seemingly no end in sight. The farther he looks the more he realizes he can’t see. Down at the bottom, he can barely make out craggy rocks and soft grey ferns, streams of red tinted water interlaced through the landscape. It was as if some ancient godly being had taken a scoop and gouged out the entirety of the rest of a continent. Owen’s mouth was dry, and as he looked over at Rose, her brown - golden eyes were transfixed, an unidentifiable expression on her face.

“This is the devil’s ledge. That’s what the townspeople call it anyways. People come up here to end it all, and they don’t see how beautiful it all is, how much it’s not worth it to end it.” Rose says, softly. “The first time I came to this place, I was with the doctor. He wanted to show me something pretty, but all I could think about was how human life means so much, but could end in a matter of seconds - jus’ a single low point. I just wanted to be by his side forever, not be touched by nothin’.”

“Didn’t work out, did it?” Owen asks. He doesn’t mean it to come out as harsh as it does. Rose winces. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Git.” She says instead.

Owen doesn’t really know what to say to that. He asks a question, instead. 

“But, we can’t die, right? We’re the lucky sons of bitches that get to trapeze around the universe.” 

 

“Owen, we don’t get to live forever. We have to live it, whether we like it, or not.”

Owen privately thinks this is a load of crap. They’re immortal, they’ve got pretty much unlimited access to anything the universe has to offer, they’re practically gods. Rose definitely is, if she has access to a being that can bring things back to life. Limitless power. His stomach is twisting in a strange sort of knot, one that’s full of need and yet, disgust. Jack certainly hadn’t thought long about limitless power. Or maybe he had? How much did they ever really learn about the captain, anyways.

Rose looks at him with another odd little expression on her face. “On the outside, everyone wants t’ live forever. But it’s not what you think. It’s watching everyone you know and love eventually die. It’s traversing worlds, never being able to go back to a home, because you don’t have one anymore. Even if I managed to get back, I don’t belong in london, 2006. It’s finding it harder and harder to care, because you stop noticing people, or places, because it’s all the same. It’s dangerous.”

Jack had said something like that once, some shit about feeling bricks, and the danger not being the same. Owen had listened, sort of. He was listening, sorta, now as well. The sun is moving down the horizon, the final vestiges of light disappearing, along with his musings. Rose is right, it is beautiful. Nothing like Cardiff, but that was perhaps a point in its favor.

“I had an empty flat and a job that succeeded in killing me. Trust me, this is an improvement.” Owen mutters, wishing desperately he had a beer, or some kind of alcohol with about the same numbing properties. 

“What about that girl you were talking about, when you first came to?” Rose asks.

“Her name was Tosh. She deserved better than a dead man. We never could get it right. Not with timing, or anything else.” Owen knows he sounds bitter. “I don’t really want to talk about it, if you don’t mind.”

Rose doesn’t force the issue. They sit in silence for a few more minutes.

“Rose, why are we out here? And I don’t mean the cliff. Well, the cliff too, but why here. Thousands of years and worlds from Earth? What are we meant to be doing here. Your wolf - goddess thing you have, she’s gotta communicate something before dropping you random places.” Owen says.

Rose shrugs. “Sometimes she conveys images. It’s like back when I travelled with the doctor, ‘cept there are less rules. I can interfere if I like, twist up timelines if it suits me and suffer whatever consequences that come from it. More than that, though, Bad Wolf is there to… help. She’s constantly rearranging things, how time goes if she doesn’t like it. Mostly, she sends me in the midst of trouble, and I try to save the most amount of people I can.”

“Sounds bloody exhausting” Owen comments. “Don’t you ever want to stop?”

“Sometimes. I keep moving, though. It helps.” he nods. “The wolf is...opinionated, but I have to let her take me away. It’s how we balance the control. She’s in the driver’s seat, but I control the ignition.”

“Right. Like back to the future, if the car was sentient, and the mad scientist went AWOL.” 

“You’ve never seen Back to the future, have you?” Rose is teasing now.

Owen shrugs. “Never had the time. Too many Weevils, and before then I was too busy trying to get through medical school. I’ve still got the basics, though. Time travelling bloke. Campy 80’s movie.”

“Story of my life.” Rose giggles at her own joke. “Next time we’re around the 20th century, I’m taking you to see it.”

Owen tries to shrug nonchalantly. “Jack swore by that movie.”

“And you never saw it?” The time traveller asked, outraged, but with no real seriousness in her expression.

“If you saw the other movies on the list you’d have been skeptical too. It was better safe than sorry.” 

She laughs. “That’s Jack for you. Him and his alien movie collection.Did he ever try to get you to watch Space Balls?”

Owen snorts. “He tried. He got Ianto to watch it, and Tosh I think.”

Rose shoots him a questioning look. “Who’s Ianto?”

“His boyfriend.” Owen sighs. “Bit of a prat, really.”

She snorts. There wasn’t anyone on that cliff that wasn’t in on that particular joke.

...

They walk back from the cliff in relative silence. The sky is dark now, and the city below is lit up with pinpricks of light. In the dark, and if the doctor lets the background blur together, he can almost imagine that this is an earth city, maybe a small rural town out in the countryside. He still hates it, but it’s familiar.

Then, a huge, earth shattering crash moved through the ground, and the sky behind them once again lit up with bloody red light. 

“It’s started!” Rose shouts.. “OWEN, GO!”

They run.

...

They run back down the path that they started with, and the mazework city below them is in chaos. There’s screaming, smoke fills the air. Blue and Red light mix together through it, and the capital is on fire. Giant spacecrafts hang in the air, firing indiscriminately. They can feel the ground itself beneath them moving with tremors. Rose’s hand is sweaty when she grabs his and pulls him, faster and faster along the path.

“ROSE!” Owen shouts, stopping suddenly. “We need to go, now. You’ve got to disappear us!” His chest is heavy with fear. She just shakes her head, her expression identical. “We can’t. She doesn’t want to go.” Below, the city crackles. Owen has had enough of all these sodding fires. He grabs her hand once more, and they keep running.

They run past people milling in the streets, a disorganized mob, humans and Loom alike. Some are now in full battle armament, metal sheathing overing their arms and legs, gun looking things looped around their shoulders. Some of them are ushering the citizens, women and children away, and yet, some stand in the middle of the street, passively staring, whether it’s fear or something else. Owen can feel the heat burning his back.

Besides him, Rose is shouting chorus’s of “RUN!” and “FASTER!”

The ground explodes around them, and once again there is burning heat. Owen feels his hand slip out of hers.


	3. Chapter 3

 

Owen wake up in a makeshift hospital, surrounded by the smell of smoke. The hospital, of course, is barely that, it’s a collection of tents, gathered in careful arrangements, but Owen’s can smell the familiar scent of cleaning materials and the iron tang of blood. Hospital. He does a quick self evaluation. His vision is blurry as he opens his eyes, and his legs are smarting. There’s burn damage, from his ankles to his upper thighs. Still, he can’t have died again, he reasons. It would have hurt a hell of a lot more before, and would hurt a hell of a lot less now.

“Rose?” He croaks out. As he glances upwards, he sees that the sky's still dark, meaning that he can’t have been out long. “RO-SE!” He chokes out more insistently. He swivels his head from side to side, to see if she was unconscious on the bed next to him. No luck. There’s no way of knowing how far he was from the original street, but whoever had scraped him up off the street must have gotten Rose too. Panic is filling his chest, just like back in Rome. This was not good. Really not good. Here, he’s a stranger in a dangerous place, separated from the only person who could help him navigate this.

 

Focus, Harper. Focus. _He’s survived worse than this._

 

A Loom woman, wearing grey scrubs walks over to him. She’s young, and he can’t particularly tell from his grounded position, but not as tall as some of the other Loom he’s seen. Still, she’s carrying a roll of bandages in one of her hands, and despite the strangeness of the grey scrubs, they still are scrubs. And, given the bandaging wrapped around his wrist, she’s not here to kill him. Still. Owen forces himself to his feet, unconsciously reaching for a gun that isn’t there.

“Are you alright?” The young woman asks in an accented voice. Her eyes, all four of them are kind. There’s a spattering of golden freckles across her nose. She reaches outwards, in a placating manner. Owen tries not to jump as her fingers skim across his wrist. She lowers her hand.

“I’m fine.” Owen says. “Look, this is important. Do you know if there’s a woman somewhere around here? Blonde hair, goes by the name Rose?” He asks. He’s getting whiplash from all the times lately he’s woken up from explosions without girls that he desperately needs to be there. The Loom girl just shakes her head.  “I’m sorry, I do not know, please, sit down. You’ve been injured.”

 

“I know.” Owen growls. “Look, the girl, she’s important.”

 

The Loom shakes her head. “We can help search later. I am-”

“You’re bloody useless is what you are.” He snaps. The woman’s eyes go wide, and she steps back in shock, but Owen doesn’t dwell on that. Of course Rose would do this to him, bring him back to life, then strand him in an alien society about to crumble under its own damn weight. Damn her. He spins on his heels, despite the protest in his legs, and storming away.

They’re in the middle of a large clearing of the same forest that headed up to the cliff. White tents are set up everywhere.. There’s hundreds of people laying on cots just like the one he is standing on, in a concentric circles spreading outwards, with short spaces that allow medical personnel - dressed in a mix of grey and the gold armor that the city officials wore could navigate back and forth.  The more wounded are converged closest to the center, and humans and Loom alike are wearing grey clothes and frantically rushing back and forth. On the outskirts, more bodies are being brought forth. Even If Rose was here, it would be impossible to find her for several hours, he knows, his heart sinking in his chest.

He begins trying to navigate towards the concurrent circles of bodies to the center test. Whoever was in charge would be there, he reasoned, and going back out into the streets would be a veritable form of suicide. _Fuck._ The feeling that was filling up his chest was righteous anger.. Not fear. Definitely not fear. Owen paused.

“Sir, please wait for a n-moment!” The loom lady was following him close behind. She tugs at his arm, stopping him in his tracks. “Please. Sir.I need to check wounds!” Owen spins around furiously. “I’m fine. I don’t have a concussion, my blood pressure’s fine and I don’t bloody well have internal bleeding. I said I’m fine, go help the other wounded!”

Her eyes widened. “You have experience with this.” She states. It’s not a question.

Owen huffs “I’m a bloody doctor.”

There’s a pause. She’s looking at him with those large eyes, and Owen can’t help but look away. “Please. If you’re a doctor, we need your help. The camp is being overrun with the wounded, we can’t keep up.” The woman whispers, closing a hand around his wrist.

For a split second, Owen considers just making a run for it. Sod the wounded. He certainly hadn’t made the active decision to be here. That’d all been Rose. But, he was the one who’d taken the bloody hippocratic oath, do no harm, and that counted for something. It had to. It’s why he’d joined Torchwood in the first place, wasn’t it?

“Please.” The woman repeated. Owen curses himself. He was going to help. The world was going insane, and he was going to help. “Where do you need me?” He asks. The woman doesn’t hesitate.

She takes him inwards towards the center, where the wounds are the worse. People with their limbs blown off, barely breathing. Blood was everywhere, shrapnell covering the ground and in people’s bodies. More loom doctors, and humans were bent over cots, making trips back and forth between bodies. “Here.” The woman says, pointing to a human, burns down his face and neck, arm bloody and sickeningly torn. He’s breathing shallowly, fear in his brown eyes.

“Get me something to cut with! And some bandages, clean bandages. Water, alcohol, some sort of torch, anything!” Owen orders. The woman scampers off, returning with a roll of grey cloth and something that looks like inverted scissors. “I’ll go find the rest.” She promises.

“Thanks you.” Owen nods. He can hear more explosions in the distance, and knows that battle is far from over. There was nothing he could do about that, though.  He starts by cutting the remains of the minimalist clothing off the man. The less that obscured the wounds, the better he worked. Medical knowledge made sense, at least, when nothing else was. Bone shards are cutting through the skin, his muscles are a soup of perforated flesh and shrapnel. A quick glance at his eyes reveals the glassy, white haze that clouds them. The man probably can’t feel much of anything at this point, and it’s probably a small mercy.

He goes into autopilot when the woman comes back with a bottle of greenish fluid, and large half empty jug of water. It’s cool enough. Too cold and he’ll end up giving the poor man ischemia, and further damaging the tissue. The secondary burns can be taken care of later, trying to anything more would just add to the possibility of inflection. “I need sutures- some sort  of needle and sterilized thread.” He commands. She nods and disappears, and Owen begins painstakingly washing what he can, keeping away from the man’s destroyed excuse of a left side. The man probably has a concussion on top of everything else. “Stay the hell awake.” Owen growls. “I don’t care what else you do, but wake up, mate, and keep conscious.” The man lets out a low groan as owen begins cleaning the bigger cuts. It might just be a general complaint on his bedside manner, or a response. Owen will take it.

When the girl comes back, she’s carrying the rest of what he needs. ER training takes over. “Hold his other arm!” the doctor barks. The man screams, and Owen cuts, down, with a smooth violent motion. The cut is clean. Owen removes the cut off flesh with surgical precision. The man struggles uselessly. He starts screaming again when Owen takes up the blow torch to cauterize the wound. The smell of antiseptic fills his nostrils. Owen doesn’t stop, because the world has narrowed down into what he needs to do. Epinephrine, Adrenaline is taking over, directing him through cleaning the wound.

By the time he’s done, his hands are coated in blood, and the main bleeding is stopped. He wraps and cleans what he can. If the man lives through the night, and gets more medical care at a point after that, he’ll live. He says as much to the girl.

From the other side of the camp, more wounded are coming in. Some of the wounded are wearing black leather armor, some gold. The girl talks as they work. “The black armor- that is traditional. From the southern continent. It is what the invaders wear.” She murmurs in explanation as he looks up. They had sent militia up through the city, to take the capital, she explains. The bombs had been the beginning, but the rebels wouldn’t stop until the capital had been taken.

 

“Why save them?” He asks, rhetorically. “They’re tearing up your city and killing your people, but the rescue shipments bring as much of them in as they do your people.”

 

The girl blinks, as if surprised by the question. “Being a healer is about healing people, no matter who they are.” The girl explains. “That is who we are. Healers.” Owen nods. He supposes that’s who he is, too. Is that what he’d done, before? 48 hours ago, he’d been a doctor, and that had been his job. He’d thought he’d been good at it, too, except when he wasn’t. When he let people die. When couldn’t stop a  man from dying in his bed. When he couldn’t stop a teammate from being shot.

 

The second soldier Owen treats is a young woman, dressed in the same leather garb as the invading forces. She’s conscious, babbling in a mix of the language of the planet and english, while a huge stab wound in her abdomen glistens under the harsh light of the hospital lamps.

He cuts through the layers of half burnt through clothing. He gives the girl a relatively clean rag to bit onto, and cleans as much of the blood as he can. The wound is long and ragged, as if someone using a rusty knife had taken a long slice through her midsection. She’ll need surgery, but mostly he needs to stop what bleeding he can, and that means going through as deep as he needs to in order to get at the original source of the bleeding. He coats the knife in alcohol. “This is going to hurt.” He tells her. There’s tears in her eyes, but she nods. She’s luckier than some, he’ll note, in a clinical fashion later. She’ll lose a kidney, but the rest of it can be sewn up or cauterized. The Loom girl, grabs the young soldier’s hand with her left ones, and the soldier has passed out within thirty seconds. More small mercies.

 

They continue on. There’s scarcely time to even wrap a wound before Owen is ushered to the next patient. He finally asks, as he’s setting a young Loom girl’s arm, the nurse’s name. “Valr.” She whispers, and Owen says, “thank you, Valr.”

 

The wounded keep coming in. Many are dead before they can be taken to the inner circle, but he tries, damn it. He wraps and cleans wounds. Many of the wounded are suffering from severe burns. Civilians and soldiers alike come in to the camp,  and the bombs continue to explode in the distance, like the thrumming of a gigantic drum.

…

He doesn’t see Rose among the wounded.

It’s a relief, and yet fear festers in his bones. On a rational level, he knows that she can’t be hurt, not really. Still, no matter how many times Jack died, it always made his stomach turn.

 

Hours later, he can feel the exhaustion settling in, and the low hum of the wounded still prevails through the air. The other doctors acknowledge his presence occasionally, if only to ask for supplies, or ask about the condition of patients. They don’t question why Owen is there, or if they do, they don’t care. He’d swapped into the gray scrubs of the other methods, after his toga had gotten coated in blood from the first man.

If Rose had been here, he would have found her by now. THe explosion had to have knocked her out as well...Unless.... unless she’s in the enemy camp? Owen hadn’t been exactly conscious when whoever had scraped him off the pavement had come and dumped him off here. The only news that comes into the hospital camp comes from the wounded, and when they speak in english, it’s been barely coherent. As far as he can piece together, the majority of the city was still under fire, and the survivors had been moving east, into the forest where this camp was located.

“The palace is not yet breached.” Valr tells him after returning from a supplies run. “It is a near-close thing,  Nobody has said anything about the royal family. They alone could stop this fighting.”

At this point, Owen is sprawled haphazardly against on of the water crates, in a far off tent. He’s also managed to commandeer a small amount of the vile alcohol that was used for rough sanitization. It tastes like shit, and burns his throat as it goes down. Valr stares at him, and Owen takes smalls swigs, daring her to comment. She doesn’t.. “What could the royal family do? Surrender?” He asks.

Valr shakes her head. “The family would never surrender, but the guard is an animal without a head. Prince Xausuf was the head of the city guard, he was working on a talk with the southern forces. He is a great commander, and has ties to both parties. If any one Loom could bring peace, it would be him.”

The name sounds vaguely familiar.

 

“Bloody Hell.” Owen spits out a mouthful of the green liquid. “You’re fucking with me. Xausuf is a prince? Muscular, Holier than thou, Xausuf?”   
  
Valr looks discomfitted. “A good and honorable one. Yes.” she replies, almost apologetically. “The peoples of the south- they were not spoken for, until he came. There have been wars like this before, in the history of Ovarlue, and the Royal Family has put them each to rest with violence. However, the prince was the first of them to travel to our villages, and understand us. For three years, there’s been the possibility of peace between our peoples.”

“You’re from the south. Like, the attacking south?”  Owen asks, taking another swig and grimacing. His reasons to hate the guy are, if anything, dwindling. Owen wants to hit something.

She nods, and makes a double cross with her arms. “I believed in the prince. He came to my village when I was very small. I was the first of my family to be able to come to the north and receive training as a medic. Tomorrow, the senate was supposed to open, and open congress with 20 of our people’s. A new time.” She sounds almost dreamy.

“And then this happened.” Owen finishes. “Bloody figures.”

“I did not believe our people capable of this. It is doom for us, and then for them. Lives lost, for what purpose.” She gestures to the bodies around them.

The Doctor nods. “It doesn’t make sense.” He downs the rest of the bottle.

…

There’s not too accurate of a way to time keep in the camp, but the sun has finished rising and set when the bombing finally lets up. An hour after that, new bodies stop piling up. In the lull, Owen might be able to get away. He’s not a prisoner here, just a random man they found on the street, so if he were to just, walk out, he could. Still, exhaustion wins out first, and Owen collapses against one of the crates of alcohol.

When he wakes up, Valr has brought him a plate of odd looking fruit. It’s yellow, but is long and seeded. It must be safe for humans, at least, and he tastes a little of it. It’s incredibly sweet, almost too sweet, but it’s not worse than the beer, and he manages to swallow a mouthful. “Thank you.” He says, and places the plate gingerly on a crate behind him. “Would you-”

She perks up. “Yes?”

“I need to get to the palace.” Valr stares. “Look, I was travelling with this girl. And chances are, if there’s trouble, she’s managed to find the middle of it. So, a lot of trouble, capital.” He explains. Owen’s not entirely sure the plan will work, but it’s worth a shot, now that the bombing has stopped.

Valr is shaking her head. “That’s...you will kill yourself before you are half way into the city.”

Owen cracks a smile. “Nah, Love. I’m rather lucky when it comes to this kind of thing.”  Except when he’s really, really not. Still, she doesn’t need to know that.

“No.” She states, crossing all four of her arms. “I will not help with this. Ask else.”

“Look, I just need directions. Unless I’m a prisoner. Am I a prisoner?” He barks.

“What? Of course not!” She sputters.

“Then, either help, or bugger the hell off.” He snaps. Owen begins pacing way from her, past rows of empty cots. He doesn’t know which way is the fastest way out of the camp, but following the soldiers is his best bet. Near the edge of the forest, there’s a line of what look like 6 wheeled dune buggies took has to be a start. If he can get back to the city, then someone will know the fastest route to the capital.

He reaches the edge of the path, where soldiers are piling supplies into the vehicles. Those that are not, are crammed into the back of the buggies. Owen approaches with a semblance of stealth. He just needs a reason to be on one of the transports, and they’ll take him back to the city, and back to Rose.

 

“Who are you” One of the Loom soldiers, carrying a large crate asks. He’s tall, and broad, and carrying a large gun in the other hand.

“Field Medic.” Owen tries to sound confident. He has the scrubs to prove it. “Look, I’m on the outgoing transport, and I need a ride to get back to my squadron. I was told by one of the commanders-”

“Which squadron were you tagged onto, Eoiu?” The man interrupts. Owen doesn’t know what Eoui means, but the way the man’s lip curls, it’s not complementary.

Shit. He doesn’t even know who the commanders are. Or what the squadrons are called. Something. Anything.

“Look,” Owen mutters. “ A bloody bomb exploded on the edge of the city. I was lucky, I didn’t get blasted sky high. But right now I need to get back to them, and they’re still in the city. I need to be on this transport now. If you’re going to get in my way I’ll-”

The guy shakes his head, as if in disbelief. “Aefsa, sure. Sure. You expect me to believe all of that? And then you threaten me? You are a piece of work, human.”

“I’m a field medic!” Owen insists.

“Don’t lie to me.” The Loom snaps.

“Commander Efu. I have his orders.” A soft voice interjects. Owen and the Loom guard spins around to see Valr. She’s carrying a collection of bandages, and a wrinkled piece of paper in the other hand. She must have followed him. Owen’s pretty sure he wants to kiss her. Still, the guy still looks suspicious, but not like he’s gonna court marshall Owen and rip out his internal organs. “And you are?” He asks Valr.

“Aeuf. aferuos, whaeasu ufa uherus. Squadron 8.” She replies, quick to the point and rehearsed.

The guy glares. A beat passes. Then, he seems to come to a decision. “Get on the transport, both of you.” He snaps. Owen scrambles into the buggie, Valr’s taller frame following him. He can breath relatively easy now. He settles into his seat.

“You are very stupid.” Valr informs him, matter of fact. She’s making a gesture with her left hands.

“You don’t know the half of it. But thank you.” He murmurs. There’s a moment of silence, and more guards enter the buggy, shuffling in and staring at them curiously. “Medics.” Owen mutters, as a way of explanation.

“This girl is important to you. Why?” She asks. Below them, the transport is rattling down the road.

 _She’s my ride back._ No, that wasn’t it, not exactly. Were they friends? Maybe. He hadn’t really had a lot of people back in Cardiff who he considered friends, but he supposes she fits the description. Friends didn’t strand friends on alien planets, did they?

“She’s my doc brown.” He says. Valr squints at him confusedly.

  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter- just a quick update on where Rose is at before the main chaos really has a chance to start. For all of you here for Charlie Kelly, I can promise that he too will be making an appearance in a couple chapters as well.

To say that Rose is really not having the best day is an understatement.

She’d woken up a couple hours ago, no Owen, no Xausuf, just bombs cascading down into the city, flames streaking down the darkened sky. The city street where they had been standing had been decimated to the ground, the smell of gunpowder filling the air. In the distance, the lights of the palace still shown brightly, a slight shimmer hovering in the air above it signifying that the defenses were still in place.

 

Usually, the best course of action was to find where the most trouble was, and walk directly into it.Usually. She needed to find Owen first, and pull him out from whatever trouble he managed to find. It probably wouldn’t take him long,She certainly hadn’t needed much time when she’s first started traveling with…when she she first started traveling. Rose grips the gun still strapped to her thigh, running her fingers along the hilt. Whoever had picked up Owen had most likely thought she was dead- they’d probably been right - and just taken him.

 

Right. She needed to find Xausuf, if nothing else. He was technically the rightful leader of the cities defenses, and if anyone could tell her what was going on, he’d be able to. She just needed to find some soldiers, and from there she’d find him. Roes picked a direction - towards the city would put her on the path with the most city soldiers - and started walking.

 

From there she’d walked through the near silent city, except for the unsteady thrum of bombs. The lack of survivors was eerie. Buildings were crushed, rubble was everywhere, and she could see occasionally the shape of people crushed under collapsed structures, loom and human alike. Rose didn’t look away, when she say them, though it made her stomach turn.The dead deserved that, at least. For someone to know that they’d been, what had happened.

 

She’d known, because she’s been here, hundreds of years later. The revolution on Overlue was destined to be bloody and purposeless, and to kill millions upon millions. Seeing it, though, was something else entirely. Rose had seen many wars, and many victims. It never got better. It just imprinted on her brain, along with a thousand worlds full of guilt.

 

There would be survivors, though. Those that escaped the bombing would be in some kind of shelter, deeper into the toward where the protection of the capital soldiers was still maintained.

By the time she gets to the Eastern block of the city, she can hear the sound of trucks in the near distance rumbling, and the steady march of city soldiers. Rose breaks into a run. There’s no gunfire, but she reaches for her gun anyways. This is it. There was no way to tell if they’d consider her a friend or a foe, and there’d be no way she’d be able to prove that she knew Xausuf, but this was a definite start. She just needs to create a big enough show, and she could get to him.

Ahead of her, she can see a junction in the road. The glint of gold shines in the center of the street, where two guards stand watch in the shadows of the pavilions. She can tell exactly when they see her, as well, the hurried shouting, the unmistakable sound of guns being cocked. Rose walks forwards, moving into the light. From the buildings on either side of them, Rose can hear several more sets of guns, and she doesn’t need to look to know that there are probably bright red targets on her back. She swallows, softly.

 

If she’s wrong on this gamble, they’ll shoot her where she stands, and she’ll be no closer to finding out what she needs to. She really needs to be right here. Rose waves slightly, putting her hands up in an universal ‘I surrender gesture’.

“ERUS EL!” The guard on the left screams. _Halt!_

 

Rose nods. “Alrigh’ mate. Whatever you say.”

“OURE HAUS ERAS!” He shouts. _Stay where you are._ “Look,” Rose shouts back. “My name is Rose Tyler. I’m a traveller passing through, and a friend of Prince Xausuf! I mean no harm, I jus’ need to talk with him!”

That causes the guards to stir, and the one on the right exchanges a few quick words with the other. They mutter indecisively. Rose waits. Finally, one of the guards, the one stationed on the left walks forward, closing the distance between them, his gun pointed directly on her. He’s young, and he’s gripping the gun too tightly. “Give me one good reason that I should believe that, and not just order the guards to shoot you on site, human.” He snaps, quickly.

Rose shakes her head. “I’m not your enemy. I can’t prove who I am, not until I see the prince, and he can confirm what I’m trying to tell you, butI need to speak with him. I’m not from around here, or part of the southern forces. Here.” Rose pulls out her gun. The Guards around them immediately raise their own. _Shit._

"I'm surrendering!" She shouts urgently. all but shoving the gun hilt first at the leader, keeping her other hand raised.

“Don’t move.” The guard snaps warily.

“Wasn’t planning on it.” Rose keeps that bright smile plastered to her face. “Look mate, why don’t you just arrest me. I’m not a southern spy. Take me into custody, and you can confirm all that I’m saying. I'm a friend of the princes, and I need to speak to him.” The guard looks indecisive. She holds her wrists outwards. “Look, I don’t have time for this. Just arrest me.”

“Do not think you can tell us what to do, stranger.” The guard snaps in annoyance.

Rose shakes her head. “Well we can’t stay here forever. Jus' arrest me and get this over with.”

“I’m not going to arrest you just because you want me to.” The guard says. Rose genuinely wants to bang her head against a wall. Usually, it was rather easy to get arrested. The one day she's making a genuine effort and suddenly it's difficult? Time for Plan

“Well, if you're not going to arrest me, then I'm walking right through that perimeter.” Rose says pointedly, and begins to walk forward, towards what she could vaguely make out in the distance as a line of trucks.

“STOP!” The guard shouts. Around them, guns were still trained directly on her. “You can’t do that.”

“Well, then arrest me. Cuz I’m doing it.” Rose decides. She meets the guards gaze for a moment. Check and mate. The leader of the guards seems to come to a decision, but he certainly doesn't look happy about it. 

“You’re under arrest.” The guard glares at her. Victory. Kind of.

...

_“Humans are timeblind.” John, the doctors double, had told her once. “The lot of you. Can’t see more than what’s in front of you. You just live as if every day was all there was, not even considering the possibilities of thousands of worlds out there! Lives and worlds, and things humanity has never dreamed of, and none of you understand a thing. You just live your mundane lives, don’t think anything of it, while there’s so much to explore, Rose! So many lives to live, and you just let yourself be trapped!” John had paced, pulling his hair into manic patterns around the torchwood lab, fiddling with the time vortex. “I have an idea, and if I’m right, I’ll be able to change everything.” The light in his eyes had been intoxicating, his movements jerky and energy laden._

_Rose had been overtaken with the infectious excitement, her matching his “Show me.” She’d commanded. His grin had lit up, and he'd pulled up a display, blue light washing over their shared space._

_“What do you know about rips in the space time continuum?” He’d asked._


	5. Chapter 5

Miles away, the Buggie was still making it’s achingly slow descent into the city. For now, at least, the bombing part of the invasion had stopped, but only so much as what felt like the silence before the storm. Valr was hunched with her head in her hands, looking vaguely red. Owen didn’t blame her, the constant rocking of the vehicles wasn’t doing much for his own stomach.

 

“Why’d you help me?” He asks, conversationally. “Not that I’m not grateful, believe me I am. But I’m a bloke you just met.”

 

Valr smiles, looking up. Her eyes were a golden color, he notes, but burnt gold, not the bright blinding gold of the Wolf.  “You are.” She confirms.

 

“Then why help me? You could have easily let me get caught back there, and now you’re coming with me.”

 

“You needed the help. And I needed a way back into the city. I became a medic to help all that I could, but I came to the city for reasons other - there was a girl.” There’s a hint of darker purple in Valr’s cheeks at that, mixing with the red.

 

Owen looks up at that, “A girl?”

 

“A human one. My _lausao_.” At Owen’s confused stare, she elaborates. “My...betrothed, is the closest term. Loom make bonds for life, and it is...hard to explain. It was hard for a human, but when I saw her, I knew she was my lausao. My Kate. I lost her in the first attack, but I believe-know- that she will not be dead. She is much too strong.” Valr says with conviction.

 

“I’m sorry.” Owen says. Valr blinks at him.

 

“Thank you, but do not be. I will find her soon. She was near the palace at the time of the attack, and that is where I need to search.” It makes sense. The chances of the girl being alive are probably minimal at best, but Owen knows what it’s like to need to believe anyways, no matter the odds.

 

Unfortunately, he also knows what it’s like to have those hopes crushed. Owen stares down at the clogs that he’s still got on from ancient rome. They weren’t ideal for working in a makeshift hospital, nor for running. The leather is fraying quickly, and the bottoms are shredded. He picks at them, in a vain attempt to somehow smooth them out. Valr is watching his movements curiously.

 

“Those shoes. I’ve never seen anything like them.” Valr says. “Where are you from?”

 

“A city called Cardiff.” He says. “London, before that.” It couldn’t hurt to be honest, he supposes, not if what Rose was saying was true and the Earth was destroyed.

 

“That’s not on Ovarlue.” Valr says, looking for confirmation.

 

“No.” Owen says.

 

“Then what would you make go?” She asks.

 

“I couldn't stay.” Owen answers honestly. “Too many dead people, and I couldn’t face that. I’ve never been able to.”

 

“And then you came here.” Valr finishes, nodding with understanding. “To find more tragedy.” She looks sad. Owen wishes she wouldn’t. His problems were depressing, but mucking around in his own self pity, that’s his job. Not strange alien girls who he’s just met.

 

“I’m sorry for you too, human.” Valr concludes. 

 

The urge to connect with this alien girl is unexpected, yet still there. "Owen." He says. "My name is Doctor Owen Harper."

 An explosion rips through the air violently.

Several things happen in quick succession. The first is that the buggie stops abruptly, gravity throwing all of its occupants back with a vengeance, whiplash causing Owen’s head to collide with the metal frame of the vehicle. The familiar smell of gunpowder and smoke fills Owen’s nose, and the sound of gunfire fills the air.

 

“GET OUT!” He screams at Valr, forcibly throwing her and himself out of the back of the buggie, as several soldiers collapse behind them. They hit the marble and Owen howls in pain as his left wrist hits the cobblestone hard. There’s shouting, his head feels fuzzy, the guard that he had originally argued with is standing on top of the vehicle, barking orders.

 

A shot rings out among the others, and it rips through the guards head; a splatter of brain matter.

 

 _FUCK._ Valr is staring in shock. Owen grabs her arm with the arm that isn’t on-fucking-fire back through the line of troops, now organizing in a rough blockade. It’s impossible to make any individuals on the other side, but the sleek black ships above them hum threateningly. “We need to get out of here!” Owen shouts, but it’s impossible to distinguish from the overwhelming noise. Valr is also screaming something, but it too is drowned out, and probably not in english, whatever it is.

 

In the distance, through the mist, the lights of the palace still stand. Unfortunately there’s no way they could get through that, not without the militia around them. They can run, but they won’t make it. The finality of that sinks in, and Owen lets go of Valr’s hand, and runs towards the blockade, and rips a gun out of the hands of a fallen soldier before sprinting backwards. He’s not going to be able to shoot this, not with the pain radiating through his ulna. It’s not a clean fracture. He shoves the gun into Valr’s hands, and her eyes widen. She’s shaking her head.

 

“I DON’T GIVE A FUCK!” He’s shouting over the noise. “BLOODY SHOOT!”

 

She looks indecisive. The phrase ‘do no harm’ rings through Owen’s head. “Alright.” He mutters. “Stay behind me!” He takes the gun from her, and she passes it over. It’s loaded, and the lines of light on the sides of it glow. There’s another skill that he’s managed to pick up in torchwood, and that’s how to fuck with alien tech without killing yourself. 

He’s gotta try, then. Maybe if he uses the length of it to distribute the force of the shot..

In front of him there’s lines of soldiers, masses of rubble and parked vehicles making up a rough blockade. Another Loom is barking orders and gesturing all the while shooting. Owen moves forward, crouching behind the main block of what he hopes is similar in density to concrete next to another soldier, this one human. The gun he’s holding is similar to a rifle, so he braces it against his shoulder, braces it with the forearm of his other hand, and fires. It’s all he can do to keep from screaming out in pain as the gun knocks against his wrist. Bloody fucking hell. It’s not gonna work, he can’t shoot like this. He feels tears pricking his eyes.

 

He throws down the gun in frustration and retreats back once more. Valr is shouting again, and Owen strains trying to pick up what she’s saying.

 

“SU--VOR-” She’s spitting.

 

“WHAT?” He’s shouting.

 

“SURVORS!” She tries again, and it clicks this time. _Survivors. OH._

 

They are field medics after all, they hadn’t been bullshitting that part. Owen can’t fire a gun, but they can pull people from the rubble. For a split second he wonders why, as a medic, that hadn’t been his first instinct. _Years of Medical School, and years in the field, and Do No Harm is still not his first instinct._

 

He doesn’t have time to muse over this.

 

Above them, another bomb falls into No man’s land.

 

…

 

There’s really not much one can do in a jail cell. There’s not even ceiling tiles to count, or guards to debate in a rousing discussion on how Rose should really be let out of the box and taken to the Prince, please. It’s honestly wearing on her, and she’s wearing a hole in the sand.

 

She takes to talking to herself.

 

“Alright, Rose. What prompted you to get yourself locked in jail this time? Cuz it is certainly not panning out. A wars on, n’ you’re sitting on your arse? You should be ashamed. A disgrace to your time lady profession, you are. Though I suppose you’re not technically a time lady. Jus’ a lady who moves in time. With cosmic entities. There’s gotta be a name for tha’ right? Cosmic entity ridin’ lady. Nah, that’s too long. Time lady it is. I’ll get that on a T-shirt, too. ‘Cosmic entity riding Time lady’....I should complain to whoever manages this place. Well, I would, except he’s not here. HEY! ANYBODY! I’D LIKE TO COMPLAIN TO THE MANAGER! Nobody? Well, that’s jus’ about right.”

 

Rose is well aware she sounds kind of mad. Still, she’s allowed. Being as old as she was, and having seen the things she has.

 

“Bloody hell, how long have I been in here?” She asks no one in particular.

The silence doesn’t offer a reply, and Rose huffs a frustrated sigh. 

“15 minutes, at the most.” A smooth voice answers, and Rose spins on her heel. Standing in the moonlight a tall Loom, wearing the full battle armor of a prince is grinning. “Rose-wolf.” 

 

“Xausuf!” Rose runs to the edge of the bars. “You came, you brilliant man, you. How much of that did you hear?” How had he snuck up on her like that?

 

The crowned prince shrugs. “A bit of it. I can still get you a oversee-er, if you’d like.” Despite his easy smile, she can see the tension in his shoulders, and the exhaustion in his stance.

 

Rose nods seriously. “Tha’s alright. I’ll jus’ leave you a bad Yelp review.”

 

Xausuf scrunches his face up in confusion. “ _What’s a Yelp review?”_ He asks in Loern- the native Loom tongue.

 

“ _It’s….hard to explain.It’s a human thing.”_ Rose switches over too. “ _I could use some help getting out of here.”_

 

Xausuf nods in understanding. “ _Of course.”_ He pulls out a small thin tablet and the door pops open. Rose steps through the opening and flings herself up into his arms. He catches her, dropping the tablet, and laughing.

 

“ _Rose._ ” He chastises. “ _I have a reputation.”_

Rose snorts. “Oh, I’m sure. Don’ want anyone to know you’re a big softie.”

 

Xausuf shrugs. “ _Something like that. You should not be here, Rose-Wolf. It’s dangerous, and you are not as invincible as you like to think.”_

He gently lowers her to the ground.  

“I can’t stand by an’ do nothin’ Your highness. ‘Sides, my ride is kind of out of fuel right now, not to mention my travelling companion is out getting himself into trouble. So, for the time being, I’m stuck here.” Rose says.

 

 _“The human boy you were with. Oven?”_ Xausuf surmises.

 

“Yep. OVEN. That’s him. The mopey one with the stuck up hair.” Rose gestures with her hands. It takes all she has not to giggle.

 

 _“I will tell my men to look for him. And not to shoot him, if he makes as grand an entrance as you.”_ Xausuf promises.

 

“Thanks.” Rose says. “How’s it looking out there?”

 

“ _Not good,_ Rose Wolf. _The city is running on a strained militia, and fighting has broken out all over the continent. The royal family- father - refuses to get involved. He believes if he sits back and allows the fighting to take it’s course, the line will survive. This is troubled thinking. He neglects his peoples, and his duty.”_ Xausuf has a hard set to his jaw.

 

“But the war isn’t going well.” Rose surmises.

 

“ _No. There are more rebel troops than we could have anticipated, and they come with great fervor. They are over-running the capital and soon they will enter the palace, and the revolution will be complete, millions of lives lost along the way.”_ Xausuf acknowledges.

 

“But either way, there’ll be more casualties that we can’t stop.” Rose murmurs. “Even if you can stop the invasion force.”

 

“ _Exactly, Rose Wolf. We need an armistice as quickly as possible. And there’s something else,_ Rose-Wolf. _A theory, only, but if I am right then there may be a way of ending this fight before it has begun. The night of the explosion, did you get a good look at the ships?”_

 

Rose shakes her head.

 

“ _There had been cloud cover that night, but more than that. The ships were black, in the style of the southern villages, and yet…something felt off.”_ Xausuf looks back and forth, as if looking for some unseen eavesdropper.

 

“Ships attacked in - in grids. Patterns. One bomb, one per grid. Eastern villages don’t know the grid breakdowns of the city, only the strategists in the capital. And warriors from the east don’t attack in grids. I didn’t believe it and then, my fathers _apathy._ More than that - there’s no record of our responses the night of the attack- _our soldiers did not regroup until hours later._ ”

 

Roses eyes widened. “And today was supposed to be the day that the new council convened, with the new members. There was no reason for the southern forces to have attacked. The only people that had somethin’ to lose would be-”

 

“ _My family.”_ Xausuf finishes.

 

Rose swallows.

 

“ _If that got out, there would be rioting of a different kind. But as long as the palace walls hold the family is safe. There’s been tensions in Ovarlue for centuries, and without intervention, we will tear ourselves to shreds. But if there was a way to reveal the footage-use the palace to broadcast that, then there is hope, Rose-Wolf.”_

 

Rose swallows. “We’d need that footage. Or- the ships.”

 

Xausuf nods. “If I am right. We’d need access to the palace. And the doors have been shut indefinitely. There is no ways in or out.”

 

Unless. “Not unless you had the force of a rebellion behind you.” Rose says.

 

“It’s treason.” Xausuf says. Suddenly the hunted look her friend has had clicks into place. It  _is_ treason. It means losing all Xausuf has ever known in the hopes of a revolution that will save the most amount of people. Xausuf is a good prince, and moreover and good man, who would die for his people. The theory is insane. It might actually work. 

“Are you ready, Rose-Wolf?” Xausuf asks, in English once more. 

“Absolutely.” Rose nods. “So, where do we begin?”


	6. Chapter 6

45 minutes later, Rose and Xausuf are tied up, blindfolded, and sitting on cold concrete like ground. The guards had been rough, loading them into the vehicles, tieing them up with the efficiency of people who had done this before, and promptly dumping them roughly onto the ground in what Rose can only suppose is a now rebellion occupied warehouse turned base-which landed them where they are now.

 

Xausuf, for his part, was stoically silent. Rose, less so.

 

“Hey! Mate! Take us to your leader, will you?” She calls at the nearest guard, in what she hopes is the right direction.

 

The blind folds are ripped off roughly. In front of them is a tall slender woman, wearing the same black clothes of the rebellion, some blood dried on her collar. Her hair is cut short, and her posture is still.  

 

“General Xausuf, honored prince.” She says, stiffly. She brings her right palm through a half circle gesture, averting her eyes. “I am Kate Carpenter. Leader of the joined villages, head of the northern militia, daughter of Xeru.”

 

Xausuf nods, repeating the gesture. “I come in peace, and on my own behalf, my lady. I do not wish to be short, but these are dangerous times, and I have information that may end our war and bring mutual beneficial peace to our peoples, and save hundreds of lives.”

 

Kate raises an eyebrow. “That’s...a lot to process. You’re very forward, for a member of the royal family.”

 

“I am a soldier of our land before all else, my lady.” Xausuf replies.

 

Rose kind of gets the feeling that this Kate isn’t going to acknowledge her. She’s trying really hard not to take it personally.

 

“I’m Rose.” She offers. “Still here.” Kate gives her a glare that could probably kill a Weevil.

 

“Be that as it may, we’re gonna need a hell of a lot more than your words to guarantee you’re not setting us up to betray us. We’ve grown up on the lies of the capital. You claim to make deals, then stab us in the back. To be frank, my prince, any one who did not see this rebellion coming is very blind indeed.”

 

“That is what I wish to speak to you about.” Xausuf says, quietly. “I believe that in this situation, there is the possibility that there has been betrayal, of both our peoples.”

 

Kate sits down on a crate, watching intensely. “Alright then. Talk.” She orders.

 

Xausuf does. He speaks at length, laying clear his theories. “If I am right, then we can end this now.” He ends, pressing his hands together. Kate, for her part, has been silent, her expression calculating.

 

“If you are wrong, then you’ll have allowed our troops into your home with little to no resistance.” She says.

 

“If I am right, then lives can be saved.”

 

“Or you are leading us into a trap.”

 

“On my honor as the prince, I am not.” Xausuf says with finality.

 

Kate looks thoughtful. “I will take your words under consideration.”

 

“Consideration?” Rose echoes.

 

“Consideration.” Kate confirms, a tad of annoyance in her voice as she seems to notice Rose once more. “I guarantee nothing more.

 

“Thank you.” Xausuf says. “It is all we can ask.”

  
  



End file.
